


No Regret

by 401



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: HYDRA Trash Party, M/M, Murder, Revenge, Steve loses his shit, Vigilantism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-28 19:24:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13278264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/401/pseuds/401
Summary: Steve cannot rest until the people who hurt Bucky pay. So he burns them down, one by one.





	No Regret

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back! Sorry I've been away for so long! Good news is, I will now be doing commissioned, personalised fics for anyone who asks. So inbox me if you want to buy a personalised fic.

Steve slowed his breathing down to short huffs as he rounded the corner of the dank concrete corridor. The crunch of his boots against the floor was just a little too loud.

_You’re losing your touch, old man._

More slow breaths. His movements still echoed off of the metal ceilings. It was not anxiety causing this lack of control. It was rage. Boiling crimson rage. The Captain could feel it trembling in his sweating palms, throbbing in his chest as his heart hammered against his ribcage like a metronome. He could feel It in ever scar that he had traced on Bucky’s body, every sleepless, guilt-wracked night he had watched him endure. It rippled through him as he read the case files, the convictions, the piles and piles of fear-mongering and lies. And now, it had nowhere to go. He had never been fond of sitting down and doing nothing.

Movement, only meters in front of him, stopped him in his tracks. He ceased his breathing altogether, clutching the shield in front of him. Something like excitement rose in his stomach coiling around his lungs and forcing the words out of his mouth.

“I know what you did,” Steve breathed, surprised by the gravel in his voice.

The movement fell into tense silence.

“Come around this corner,” Steve said softly, “And we can talk all about it.”

Brock Rumlow appeared in front of him. Steve battled with the urge to rip the sick smirk off of his face.

“Captain,” Rumlow’s smirk widened into a grin, “It’s been a wh…”

Steve’s fist connected with his jaw with a sick crunch. Rumlow hit the ground and skidded back a little. He grunted, easing himself up. Through his bloodied lips, he coughed a laugh.

“Get the hell up,” Steve growled, “GET THE HELL UP!”

Rumlow staggered to his feet.

“You were always so polite, Stevie-boy,” Rumlow slurred, rubbing his jaw, “What happened?”

Steve set his jaw and stepped closer.

“I watched you reach into the person I love and pull him apart, bit by bit,” Steve hissed, “That changes a man.”

Rumlow’s grin changed to mock confusion. He wiped his bleeding nose on his sleeve.

“Oh!” He chimed, “You mean Bucky? How is that headcase? Sleeping well?”

Acid rose in Steve’s throat, his cheeks colouring to fuchsia. His hand seemed to fly to Rumlow’s throat of its own volition. Autopilot kicked in, and his fingers twitched with the urge to tighten.

“One more word,” Steve whispered through gritted teeth, “One more word and I tear your throat out, so help me God.”

Rumlow opened his mouth, managing to cough, a bubble of saliva sealing his lips before popping and painting his teeth red.

“That’s more your little boyfriend’s style,” Rumlow wheezed, “Don’t you think?”

Steve almost felt the restraint in the forefront of his brain snap, as if there was an audible pop of discharged electricity. He threw Rumlow to the ground, tossing the shield down next to him and wiping his slick hands against his t-shirt, already smeared with dust and blood. He did not waste time throwing punches. He did not brush away the angry, hot tears streaming down his cheeks and he did not quell the lack of control in his movements. The way his fists connected messily was cathartic, unwinding something tight and painful inside him. Released bonds, something that had been there for far too long.

“I swear,” Steve managed to sob out between blows, “You will never hurt another person like you hurt him.”  


Steve got no reply. He wondered how much time had passed. Rumlow was still, no breath leaving his swollen, split lips. Steve looked down at his hands, blood soaked, scraped and bruised, trembling like leaves in breeze. There was no resistance in those hands. They were weak. He fell back, breathing shakily, and placed two fingers on Rumlow’s neck. Nothing. Steve let himself crumble, falling back against the concrete and closing his eyes. Tears came quickly, wracking him as he tried to stop the world from spinning.

It was done. He waited for regret to set in, but it never came. Only a numbness that coiled through his muscles, a slow, tingling paralysis that kept him anchored to the floor of that cold, empty bunker.

It was time to go home.

# # #

“SHEILD called you out?” Bucky asked, standing in the doorway.

Steve opened his mouth to lie, but let his voice falter, continuing to wrap his battered hands in bandages.

“Steve,” Bucky repeated, “What happened?”

Steve shook his head, shoving the first aid kit under the bed.

“Nothing,” Steve smiled weakly, “I’m okay.”  


Bucky frowned and sat on the bed, pulling Steve’s hands into his. His gaze became searching and deep. Anxiety pulled at Steve’s throat, a tightening noose under the scrutiny of someone he knew that he could not lie to. Nobody could.

“Jesus, Steve. What did you do?”

Steve sighed and closed his eyes. He leant forward, burying his face into Bucky’s shoulder. He calmed as arms tightened around him.

“Something…wrong,” Steve muttered, “Something stupid.”

Bucky pulled away.

“You need me to cover for you? Erase things, hack…”  


Steve cut Bucky off with a thumb to his lips, cupping his face in his hand and steadying himself.

“Rumlow,” He whispered, “I found him.”  


Bucky blew out a soft sigh.

“You made him pay,” he whispered knowingly.

Steve nodded. Bucky looked thoughtful for a while.

“Thank you,” He finally said.

Steve smiled, pulling the soldier into his arms.

No regret. Not one bit.

 


End file.
